Illness
by Zeragii
Summary: Phoney had woken up in the forest that morning, along with Jonathan Oaks, Wendell, and Euclid. Thorn, however was missing. Raising themselves from the ground stiffly, the Bone and the three men headed off to search for her; but Phoney found he could barely concentrate on where he was walking and kept tripping over his own feet. Man...he wasn't feeling all that well...


**Hello everyone, I'm back! I've written for this fandom before; with my story "Hunger". It received some very kind reviews, and so I thought that perhaps I'd give it another go.**

**This "missing scene" is from the Bone book: _Dragons in the Earth_. There's a part where Gran'ma Ben and Lucius come across Phoney, Wendell, Euclid, and Jon in the forest, after Thorn has left to go find Fone Bone and Smiley. It is made clear that Phoney was coming down with some illness, but then we don't see or hear anything about it until _Protection Spell_, when he is waking up fully recovered. So, my question is: What happened in between then? That's what this short story is about. :)**

**I do not own any of these characters, Jeff Smith does. I do not write for profit, but for my own enjoyment and (hopefully) the enjoyment of others. :)**

* * *

"Where's my granddaughter? Where's Thorn?"

Gran'ma Ben's words were full of concern as she pulled the soaking wet hood from over her head, squinting through the drizzling rain at the two men before her. Her hair clung thickly to her neck, drooping in sopping strings about her face. To be honest, she had been both surprised and worried to find Wendell and Euclid so deep in the forest, along with the young boy, Jonathan Oaks, and Phoncible P. Bone. It worried the old woman for multiple reasons, the foremost being of whom the group consisted. Neither Wendell nor Euclid liked Phoney; not in the least. For the three of them to be travelling _together_ was cause for great concern, if anything. And Jon, though he didn't seem to mind being around the egotistical Bone, was far too edgy a young man to be away from the safety and comfort of his home. They made up the most unlikely companions Gran'ma Ben could possibly imagine.

She also saw the way that Jonathan was carefully steadying Phoney; as if he were afraid the Bone would topple over should he let go. In fact, Phoncible _did_ look like he were about to collapse; though why she couldn't tell. He appeared half asleep, eyes half shut as he peered up at her in a slow, dazed way. Gran'ma Ben didn't like the look of him. The air was wet and chilled, and Phoney, like them all, was soaked through to the skin.

Wendell helped Euclid up off the muddy path. Both men were drenched; covered with muck and mire from their brief quarrel that Gran'ma Ben had distracted them from. Wendell found himself feeling ashamed of his behavior. He and Euclid were friends, and here they had been, rolling around in the sludge with their hands practically wrapped around one another's throats. "She was with us last night," he answered, taking a step back to stand between the two other men. "But we got up this morning, and she was gone." His eyes filled with sadness, knowing that this news would only cause Gran'ma Ben to be even more worried.

The tall, burly figure behind the elderly woman removed his hood, revealing a scraggly beard sagging with moisture, a nearly bald, rounded head, and dark squinting eyes. "I'll find her."

"Lucius! You're alive!" Jon could not contain his joy and relief at seeing his friend; his youthful face breaking out into a wide, buck-toothed grin. He had all but given up hope of ever seeing the tarvernkeeper again; despite the letter he had found by the decimated bar. Seeing the Barrelhaven in such a state had almost been more than Jonathan had been able to bare. Lucius Down had always been a hero to him; a sort of father figure. Lucius had even given Jon a job at his tavern, so that Jonathan was able to support himself. To even imagine a life without the tavernkeeper had been heartrending; a feeling of sorrow that now lifted with a sudden shift.

But Lucius was too busy to respond. With a swish of his cloak he turned, racing off into the fog-laden forest in search of Thorn. The others watched him go until he disappeared into the mist.

"Come with me," Gran'ma Ben directed, ushering the three men with her hands to head in the opposite direction. Euclid and Wendell headed in the indicated way immediately, without hesitation. Jon followed as well, after sending Lucius another joyful glance, even though he could no longer see his friend. It filled Gran'ma Ben's heart with warmth to see the young lad's affection for his employer. But they couldn't waste any more time here. The forest could be filled with rat creatures. With it being as misty as it was, they could be surrounded and wouldn't even know it until it was too late. "We're near the cave now," Gran'ma added quickly, "and you can dry off-"

"Th-that's amazing."

Gran'ma Ben turned to face the soft, halting voice. Phoney Bone stood perfectly still, gazing in the direction in which Lucius had disappeared, eyes wide and eyebrow curved way up on his head. His shoulders were slumped and raindrops dripped from his prominent nose. Small puffs of breath escaped into the cold air, floating about to dissipate in the wet atmosphere around him. "Lucius took off after Thorn without a second thought about his own safety," he stated, as if the notion was one he had never even thought of before. As though the selfless act were the strangest thing he had ever seen; completely uncomprehendable.

Gran'ma shifted her eyes from the small, white-skinned figure to look into the forest. She placed her curled fists on her hips, squinting through the cascade of water droplets that ran down her forehead. "That's right. He's a very remarkable man." She meant that with all her heart. Lucius Down was a very special man; the kind that were rarely found in this world. Lucius had always looked after her; protected her and Thorn for all these years. He put their safety over his own, a fact that both warmed her heart, as well as filled it with fear. "I'm surprised you noticed, Phoncible."

She shifted her gaze back to the shortest Bone, pausing when she found he was no longer listening. His arms had lifted from his sides to hug himself against the bitter cold. Gran'ma Ben noticed with alarm how badly he was shivering and took charge at once. "Come. It's not safe out here, you'll catch your death." She bent down to lay a hand on Phoney's shoulder, gently steering him down the path. To her surprise and dismay, Phoney didn't resist. He didn't even complain.

* * *

The walk to Old Man's Cave was taking far longer than it should have. Granted, the mud was slippery, and the fog hindered their eyes from seeing any more than a few feet in front of them, but that wasn't the main problem. Phoney was moving at a very slow rate, tripping along at Gran'ma Ben's side. He hadn't said a word since Lucius had left them, instead following the path with his head lowered and shoulders slumped. The rain was still coming down in a soaking drizzle, tickling its way down the backs the the travelers necks and into their clothes. It made them shiver, causing the weather to feel even chillier than it really was; and it _was_ chilly. Their breaths floated in little white, misty puffs about them, drifting away to intermingle with the dense fog.

As much as Gran'ma Ben disliked Phoncible's selfish, egotistical character, she found she was unable to hide her growing concern. He looked pale; beyond that odd, creamy white of his kind's skin. His eyes, still half closed, were blank and unfocused. His footsteps beside her were uneven, and he was swaying from side to side as if the Earth were rocking beneath his feet. Gran'ma had been around for more years than she cared to remember; she knew a lot about the world and those in it, and she could tell, without a doubt, that Phoney was quickly becoming very unwell.

When, out of her peripheral vision, Gran'ma Ben saw the Bone stumble once again, this time letting out a small whimper, she couldn't stand it any longer. Coming to an abrupt halt, she crouched in front of Phoney, bringing him to a stop as well. The pale creature didn't even ask why they had stopped walking. In fact, he didn't seem to even notice that they _had_ stopped at all. Gran'ma lay the back of her strong, wrinkled hand against his forehead, frowning at the resonating heat she found there.

"What's wrong?" It was Jonathan. He and the two other men had been walking up front, but, seeing Gran'ma stop, they had quickly turned back.

"He's burning up with fever."

Euclid gave a huff. "Serves the little swindler right." He glared down at Phoney with a considerable amount of hostility. The village blacksmith held a great grudge against the smallest Bone. Phoney had tricked him, along with many of the other villagers, a number of times now. Whether it was the humiliation of being fooled more than once or the fact that Phoney just wasn't a very likable sort, Euclid might have even gone so far as to say he hated the star-shirted creature.

Phoney, unlike his usual aggressively defensive self, remained silent; his eyes unfocused, as though he were looking right through them. To him their voices sounded far off and muffled, like a dream. It was like he was sleep walking; neither awake nor asleep. His body felt hot, and yet he couldn't seem to be able to stop himself from shivering. He could feel his shirt, wet and cold against his skin, and it only increased the quakes that wracked his small frame. He was vaguely aware that he was in the forest, with Gran'ma Ben and a few less than pleasurable companions; but, as of the moment, he didn't care. He was just so tired...Even the sludge-covered path looked an enticing resting place.

Gran'ma Ben sent Euclid a scowling glare. "Do you really want his death on your hands?" she asked icily, both disgusted and surprised by the lack of compassion in the blacksmith's voice.

Wendell looked frightened by the idea. Though he certainly held no sympathy for Phoney, he hated the notion of anymore senseless violence or death. He came to stand directly behind the elderly woman. "Is it that serious?" he asked, and Gran'ma was relived to hear that at least Wendell still held a little compassion in his heart.

"I'm not sure yet," she replied gruffly, "I'm familiar with a lot of illnesses that I've seen in my day, and while this could be a simple case of the common cold, his symptoms appear to indicate it's something a little more...unpleasant." She frowned even deeper when she was forced to support part of Phoney's weight as he seemed to sink a little lower to the ground. "How long has he been like this?"

"Since...this morning?" Jonathan offered. He was really the only one of the three men who had noticed that Phoney hadn't quite been himself that morning. They had all awakened stiff and cold from a night sleeping on the hard forest ground. Jon had realized he had fallen asleep leaning against the smallest Bone, and quickly shifted, afraid that he might be hurting the creature. Phoney had waken up then, and he hadn't looked at all well. Of course, Jon had just assumed that the miserable look fixed on the Bone's face was due to the foul, wet weather and having been forced to sleep out in the woods all night long. But Phoney had grown quieter and more uncoordinated as the morning had gone on; looking less and less irritable, and more and more ill. "Shortly after we first woke up," he added a little more firmly.

Gran'ma nodded. "Well, that's good at least. Whatever it is, it's in the early stages. But I have no idea how bad it will get." She frowned. "For all we know it could be something from where he comes from."

"You mean it could be contagious?!" Euclid thundered, stepping as far out of range as he deemed necessary.

"Many illnesses can be contagious," Gran'ma Ben asserted, "Especially when they include a fever." She looked back at the little Bone, peering into his dazed face. "But, for some reason, I don't think this case applies."

Jonathan shifted a nervous glance between all those present. He certainly didn't want to be sick. He couldn't _afford_ to get sick. Doctors were few and hard to come by in this part of the Valley. To be seriously ill was quite often a terrible misfortune; if not a tragedy. "Why...why not?"

"Because you'd all have come down with it by now. You have all been closest to him these last few weeks. These types of illnesses are most contagious _before_ the person begins showing symptoms. I think you're safe." Turning to Phoney she asked, "Phoncible, can you hear me?"

The white creature shifted its foggy gaze to her face, squinting when all he could see was a blurred image. "Y-yes...?" It didn't sound all that sure, and was laden with exhaustion.

"How do you feel?"

"...Tired..."

To the surprise of the four humans, the Bone's knees suddenly buckled and Phoney went limp. Gran'ma had just barely enough time to latch onto him, preventing him from slipping down into the mud. "Horse Knobbies!"

Wendell stepped forward with a hint of concern in his voice. "What happened?"

Gran'ma would have given the man an exasperated look had she been able to. "He's sicker than I thought. We've got to get to Old Man's Cave; there are those there who may be able to help him." Realizing there was no other choice but to carry the Bone, Gran'ma Ben bent down and carefully lifted Phoney into her arms. He was so light; it was like holding a child. No, he weighed even less than a child. She could feel his fevered body pressed against her bare wrists. Phoney was soaked right through to his pale white skin; black shirt dripping with rainwater. To prevent drops from splashing on the Bone's face, as well as trying to protect him from the cool chill in the air, Gran'ma wrapped him in the extra folds of her cloak's sleeves. It wouldn't help much, but it had to be better than nothing. "Come on!"

Wendell, Euclid, and Jonathan exchanged uncertain glances before turning to follow Gran'ma Ben through the fog-laden forest.

* * *

By the time they made it to Old Man's Cave, Gran'ma Ben was far past being mildly worried. Phoney had only deteriorated since she had picked him up to carry him, and he was getting worse. His shivers had progressed to near convulsive proportions, and he was so warm to the touch she could easily feel the resonating heat through the fabric of her thick robe. A short distance from the cave, the Bone had started to mumble and cry out. At first, Gran'ma thought perhaps she was hurting him, but soon realized that they were frightened cries, not pained. Since there was no reason for Phoney to be afraid, the old woman surmised that he must be seeing things that they couldn't. Or, more accurately, that weren't there. Which tossed the severity of the illness up another degree. By this point, Gran'ma Ben's worry had spread to the others; even Euclid, on a very small scale, appeared at least mildly concerned and quickened his pace.

When the gaping shadow of Old Man's Cave finally came into sight, Gran'ma Ben could have sighed aloud in relief. She hurried forward, carrying Phoney, with Jonathan, Wendell and Euclid following right behind. As they reached the entrance, a tall, cloaked figure stepped out in front of them. Wendell and Euclid halted immediately, placing Jon behind them in a protective gesture. Wendell held a hand out to stop Gran'ma, but she turned to them, her voice filled with urgency and impatience.

"This man is a Ven-Yan Warrior. He is on our side."

Wendell wrinkled his nose in distaste. "A Stickeater?"

Gran'ma turned on him so fast that Wendell was forced to take a step back. "You would do wise to respect these people! It is the Veni-Yan that guard the Dreaming. Without them, you would be in a lot of trouble; for without them the Hooded One may have already been successful!"

Wendell muttered a quick apology, backing down immediately. He was rather shocked by Gran'ma Ben's reaction to his comment. All the villagers called these men 'stickeaters'. They were useless beggars who traveled the countryside...at least, that was what they had thought. But the Dreaming? Guardians of the Dreaming? Veni-Yan Warriors had once been the elite royal guardians; everyone knew that. But everyone also knew that they had all disappeared long ago, just like the rest of the kingdom. If these robe-clad men were really Veni-Yan Warriors...Oops. Wendell realized that they had been greatly in the wrong. He knew that Euclid and Jon felt the same way.

Gran'ma faced the Veni-Yan once more. "I'm sorry for their behavior. They don't understand all that has happened yet. We have come from Barrelhaven. These three men need food and shelter."

The robed figure nodded, his muffled voice coming from beneath his hood. "They are welcome to stay here in safety. I will alert the Headmaster of your arrival."

"Good." Gran'ma looked down worriedly at the Bone in her arms. "I'm going to need a Healer," she added quickly.

The Veni-Yan settled his gaze on the shivering bundle in the old woman's grasp. The creature did appear to be quite ill. "I will send one to you immediately. Head inside. There you will be assisted."

"Thank you." Gran'ma Ben headed in the indicated direction, motioning for the three men to follow her.

Old Man's Cave was a massive place; made of solid rock and carved within the deep chambers of the cavern. As ancient as the Valley itself, it had once been the stronghold of the Veni-Yan Warriors. Today, it once again held that honor. Scattered all over the indoor structure, cloaked and hooded men walked, meditated, and trained within the safety of the cave. The echoes of their deep voices created a sort of hum that drowned out the sound of the driving rain pounding against the cavern ceiling outside. The atmosphere wasn't damp, like most caves, which was a relief to Gran'ma Ben. Phoney was ill enough without having to deal with a dank, temporary residence. The cavern was well lit by torches and bonfires, placed at regular intervals to produce the most amount of light possible. Jon, Wendell, and Euclid took all of this in as they entered, having never seen anything so spectacular or worthy of awe. Gran'ma Ben almost ignored it, having seen it all before; and Phoney was too out of it to care.

The travelers were escorted by yet another Warrior to an unoccupied bonfire, where they were told to sit and make themselves comfortable. Blankets were handed out and accepted gratefully. Gran'ma hurriedly spread the warm, dry fabric on the ground, not to close to the flames, before gently laying Phoney on top of it. The small Bone gave a gasp and a moan as she did so, launching into yet another string of mutterings, nothing of which made any sense. She held a hand to his forehead once again, wincing when she felt the extent of the fever.

"He's getting worse," she murmured. Louder she growled, "Where's that Healer?"

As if on cue, a robed figure came forward into the firelight. Wendell and Euclid tensed, still feeling threatened by the shrouded men. The Veni-Yan all looked alike, dressed identically. It made the men nervous, not being able to see the Warriors' faces. It made the fellows mysterious, as well as a little frightening. They weren't even sure whether or not this Veni-Yan was one they had met yet or not.

The newcomer bowed respectfully to Gran'ma, his voice indicating a much older man than those they had come into contact with so far. "I was told my services were needed, Your Majesty."

Ignoring the surprised exclamations from her traveling companions on the manner in which she had been addressed, Gran'ma Ben nodded. She lay her hand back on Phoney's forehead, worry lacing her tone. "Yes. He's very ill."

The Healer knelt down beside her, exchanging her hand on the Bone's brow for his own. Though she could not see his face, Gran'ma could sense the frown that flitted into his expression. His voice confirmed it. "His fever is dangerously high...You there!" Here he called to a nearby Warrior. "Fetch some cold water and a cloth." The fellow ran off immediately to do as he was asked. Apparently, a Healer outranked a Warrior when it came to giving orders, Wendell surmised. Though that might be because a Warrior was someone who protects lives, while a Healer is one who saves them.

The Healer reached for Phoney's limp arm, carefully taking the pale wrist. "Hmm, pulse is rapid...breathing shallow..."

"He's also been talking," Jon added, trying to be helpful.

"Talking?"

"Yes," Gran'ma reiterated in the boy's place, "He's been muttering nonsense."

The Healer nodded in what looked like a worried manner. After a few more questions and observations, he sat back on his heels with a shake of his head. "Whatever this is, it is very serious." He turned to face Gran'ma. "But I'm afraid I have no knowledge of this illness...nor of his kind."

"He's a Bone," Gran'ma supplied, "Says he comes from some place called Boneville."

"Are there any more of his people?"

"From what I understand; yes, lots of them."

"I mean in the Valley."

Gran'ma blinked, not seeing what that had anything to do with the current problem. "Why, yes. His two cousins have been here since before winter."

"And they have shown no signs of being ill?"

Ah. Now she saw the reason. "No, not that I know of but...I haven't seen them for a while..." Gran'ma felt a twinge of guilt at that. Fone Bone and Smiley were out there somewhere; hopefully with Thorn. What if they were ill? Thorn wouldn't know what to do...Of course, Thorn was very resourceful. And smart. Gran'ma Ben decided that, if the other two Bones became ill, they'd be in just as capable hands as Phoncible was right now. Not that that was much consolation.

The Warrior returned with a large, shallow bowl of cool water and a clean rag. The Healer took it and set it on the ground beside his patient. "I'll need to get that wet shirt off of him," he stated.

Gran'ma hesitated. Was the Healer asking for her assistance, or was he implying that she turn away to give them privacy? It wasn't like there was a problem with removing Phoney's shirt. Fone Bone didn't even wear a shirt. And none of the Bones wore any pants. Deciding that it was a question of whether she could help, Gran'ma carefully sat the Bone upright, allowing the Healer to gently tug off the damp material.

Phoncible looked odd without it. In fact, he almost looked exactly like Fone Bone, just a little bit smaller, and his expression wasn't quite the same. Unconscious, without his face scrunched up in anger or smirking in his scheming way, he actually looked quite peaceful. It was a different side of Phoney than Gran'ma had seen. One that needed help.

After getting the Bone settled back among the blankets, wrapped up so as to keep away the chill, the Healer began to pat Phoney's brow with the wet cloth. "This should bring down the fever. We might not be able to treat the illness, but we can treat the symptoms. We'll start with the most hazardous to his health. His body temperature is far higher than it should be. Once we manage to lower it, his other symptoms should improve as well." He handed the cloth to Gran'ma Ben. "I'm afraid that I cannot stay, Your Majesty. There are others who require my attention. Continue to apply the water to him; it should help. I'll be back to check on him when I can." With that, the Healer rose to his feet and made his way out of the fire's circle of light.

"He's just gonna leave him like this?" Euclid spoke up as soon as he was sure the Healer was out of earshot. He tried to hide his concern, but it managed to shine through in his voice. Gran'ma caught it and felt relieved in that the blacksmith was not as heartless as he sometimes seemed toward Phoney.

"You heard him," Gran'ma replied, shifting to a more convenient position from which she could minister to the ill Bone. "He has other people to worry about. We're not the only outsiders here. Many have escaped from villages being attacked by the rat creatures...but, of course, you already know that."

"They've been coming here?" Wendell asked.

"Yes. I've been helping the Veni-Yan gather them here; as has Lucius."

"We...We thought Lucius was dead," Jon murmured softly.

Gran'ma chuckled, though not in a mean way. "It takes a lot more than a few rat creatures to kill Lucius. Don't you worry Jon, he'll be among us for quite some time." There was several moments of silence before Wendell spoke again.

"You're a Harvester, aren't you?"

Gran'ma Ben smiled to herself. "Now, what ever gave you that idea?"

"The Healer called you 'Your Majesty'...and Thorn said something about...about her being a princess..." He paused, waiting for Gran'ma to say something. When she didn't he pressed, "Well, are you?"

Gran'ma sighed. "I am. And Thorn is a princess."

"The Lost Princess of Athea?"

"Yes."

"So that makes you-"

"Queen Rose Harvester. Yes, Wendell; it does." She turned back to her task, not really feeling like addressing the past at the moment. The men would learn everything soon enough; they had plenty of time. Phoncible might not have the same opportunity. He was looking sicker by the minute, and Gran'ma was seriously beginning to wonder whether...whether he would make it.

"Get some rest," she told them firmly, without taking her eyes off of Phoney. "Tomorrow won't be any easier than today was." There was a moment of silence before she heard the men settle in for the night, but she still didn't glance in their direction. She knew they were fine. Rest was all they needed; rest and food. Gran'ma knew that she would be wise to do the same, but she ignored that bit of self advice for the moment. She wouldn't leave Phoney's side until the Bone was back on his feet. She mentally promised Fone Bone and Smiley. She promised Phoncible...She promised herself.

* * *

"...No...W-wait..."

The stuttering voice broke into Gran'ma Ben's mind, waking her. She sat upright, momentarily confused in the unfamiliar surroundings of Old Man's Cave. The elderly woman realized she must have dozed off. She had managed to get Phoney as comfortable as possible; there had been nothing more she could do. Taking advantage of the chance to rest herself, Gran'ma had settled back against the wallside and fallen asleep; not having been able to keep her eyes open any longer. But now the voice startled her awake. Recognizing it immediately, Gran'ma shot up, turning at once to face her patient.

Phoney was sitting up, blankets nestled all around him, but had fallen from the upper half of his body. Gran'ma felt the chill in the air and became concerned that the Bone was no longer properly covered. His pale, white skin shone in the fading light of the bonfire's embers, caused by the glistening perspiration that coated him. Phoney's breathing was ragged, wheezing in time with his heaving chest. The Bone's eyes were wide open, but still seemed oddly hazy and unfocused. Gran'ma moved to his side at once, already reaching her hand to check his fever.

But Phoney reacted badly to her attempt at contact. He flinched back with a startled cry, trying to disentangle himself from the restricting covers. His breaths became even more labored as he nearly pushed his frightened mind into a panic. "...P-please...S-stop, I didn't mean to...please..."

Gran'ma flinched back immediately, stunned and worried by the pleading tone in Phoncible's strained voice. She recognized this new symptom; this seemingly incoherent chattering. Phoney's fever must have risen to an even higher extent. He had become delusional. Though Gran'ma Ben was no Healer, she knew the dangers of a fever, and the signs of severity that could accompany them. In order for Phoncible to reach delirium, his body temperature would have to have passed the safety mark. His confusion and obvious fear was the result. Gran'ma knew that his panicked state wasn't helping in the least; she couldn't even get close enough to make sure her assumption was correct. In order to do that, she'd have to calm him down first.

Retracting her hand to rest on her knee, Gran'ma knelt close to the Bone, though not too close. She wanted to make him feel more at ease, not threatened. Using a voice so gentle and caring even she barely recognized it, Gran'ma spoke softly to the struggling Bone. "Phoncible...It's alright; you're alright. I'm not going to hurt you...It's me, Gran'ma Ben...remember me?"

Phoney looked at her, fear and doubt evident in his expression. His clouded eyes shifted back and forth slightly as he attempted to match the face with the name in his fevered mind. "...G-gran'ma...Ben...?" he wheezed between gasps. He shook his head nervously, not remembering her in the slightest. He continued to try and break loose from the blankets wrapped tightly about his legs and lower torso. "...Where's F-Fone an' S-Smiley...?" Realizing fully that they were nowhere in sight, he let out an angry yell that nearly startled Gran'ma out of her wits. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY COUSINS?!"

The shout woke Wendell, Euclid, and Jon; and probably a good many other people residing in Old Man's Cave. The men jolted awake, afraid that they were under some sort of attack. After a moment, they woke up enough to see what the true problem was.

"Oh, for goodness-" Euclid growled, shifting himself out from beneath his blanket. "Why don't we just put him out of his misery..." The blacksmith's angry expression changed as he moved close enough to see Phoney in the dying firelight. The Bone looked so terrified and confused and sick, even Euclid winced at the sight of how quickly Phoney's health had declined.

Gran'ma ignored the blacksmith's comment, motioning to Jon while never once breaking eye contact with Phoncible. "Go find the Healer; quick." She kept her voice calm and steady for Phoney's sake, even though she felt her own sense of panic welling up inside her. Jon carefully stood, walking calmly to the edge of the firelight before springing forward in a desperate run.

"WHERE ARE THEY?!" Phoney cried out again, demanding to be answered as he shivered and shook.

"They're out for...a walk," Wendell broke in quickly, and Gran'ma Ben was grateful. The tinsmith had slowly inched closer until he was crouching beside the elderly woman. "They're safe; they just went for a walk." Phoney still looked doubtful. "They said they'd be back in a little while," Wendell added, wondering if he was playing this too well. He had noticed, as Gran'ma had, the Bone's hazardous condition. He understood that they needed to be able to calm and minister to Phoney if they were to help him at all.

Phoney's struggles slowly weakened and stilled. He slumped slightly, appearing very small and tired. He began to mutter again, the subject seeming to have changed all at once. "I have to..Gotta...keep them safe. Had to keep you...safe, Fone Bone..." His face flinched as though he were in emotional pain. "I just...want to help...S-sorry. So s-sorry..." He let his head fall forward into his hands. The action caused his male audience to blink in surprise, as well as blanch in guilt. They felt as though they were impeding on a private conversation between the two cousins, even though Fone Bone wasn't there to receive it. But Gran'ma saw it as an opportunity to move forward.

She leaned closer, holding out a hand to reach him as she spoke. "It's alright, Fone Bone forgives you." She wasn't exactly sure what Phoney was apologizing for, but being the little schemer that he was, Gran'ma could only imagine all the trouble he had caused for his cousins over the years.

"B-but he doesn't," Phoney insisted tearfully, swaying slightly, but not leaning away when Gran'ma's hand reached his wrist. "You don't for-forgive m-me...and it's all- all my fault..."

It was confusing, trying to understand to whom, exactly, Phoncible thought he was talking. One moment he seemed to be aware of Gran'ma's presence, but then the next moment he was talking to his cousin. Gran'ma Ben attempted to fit in the missing pieces by reviewing what she knew of Phoney and his family. They had come from a strange, far away place, across the desert by the sounds of it. They came from another culture; almost like another world. But people were people, this Gran'ma knew. Just because their homes were different didn't mean that they didn't act the same, think the same, and feel the same. Phoncible was one of three cousins, not brothers...So where was the rest of his family? Surely he had a mother and father...something. But then, if that was the case, why was he living with Smiley and Fone Bone? And why didn't he ever mention any family? In fact, Gran'ma realized, none of them had ever said anything about their families...Never in all their time in the Valley. The three Bones seemed to be very close, even though they certainly didn't act like it. But, of their little group, Phoncible seemed to be the leader. In his own selfish, greedy way, he was trying to keep his family safe. He thought it was his job to do what was best for them, even if most times he was wrong or went about it the wrong way...That was quite a burden for someone so small...

Phoney launched into a coughing fit, each hack coming out raspy and strangled. Gran'ma was relieved when the Bone didn't resist her when she placed her hand against his forehead. In fact, he sort of leaned into it, continuing to murmur incoherently. Her hand probably felt cool against his burning skin. Gran'ma found her assumption correct; Phoncible's temperature had risen to an even higher level, which was very distressing. She reached for the wet cloth and water basin just as Jon returned with the Healer.

The old fellow knelt down beside her, his voice conveying worry. "How is he?"

"Worse," was Gran'ma Ben's tight answer. She was frustrated by the fact that nothing had been done to help the Bone yet.

The Healer moved a hand into one of his long sleeves, pulling out a fistful of odd looking herbs. "I found these outside the Cave; they should help to bring down the fever." Motioning to Euclid he added, "Place some water on the fire; we'll have to make a broth. He probably can't handle much else."

Euclid gave a grumble, though not nearly as grumpily as it usually was, and complied. Within a sort time, a very warm broth was concocted. It looked like water, but smelled of parsley.

"Give this to him," the Healer said gently, handing the wooden bowl to Gran'ma. "But only a little at a time. His condition is quite serious...especially if we cannot break the fever."

Gran'ma nodded, already working on coaxing the liquid into the Bone's mouth. He resisted at first, still mumbling about being sorry about something, but soon caved in and ate some. Gran'ma realized she might never know what Phoncible was so upset about; hurt enough to let his emotional guard down. But that wasn't really any of her business. That was between the cousins. But she couldn't help feeling a little sorry for him. This caring, guilty, feeling side of Phoney showed her there was more to his character than she had first realized. Not that she liked him any better...but, maybe, she understood him just a tad bit more. Either way, she was determined not to let him die. She was sure Fone Bone and Smiley would never forgive her if she did. And she'd never be able to forgive herself.

* * *

The Healer hadn't been lying when he had said Phoney's condition was serious. His fever was stubborn, and hung on to the Bone with a passion. There was more than once when Gran'ma was almost certain they were going to loose him. Finally, by the night of the second day, the fever broke, much to everyone's relief; even Euclid's, though he tried to hide it. Phoney then lapsed into a deep sleep that lasted for a few more days. It worried Gran'ma Ben at first, but the Healer assured her that it was normal. Phoney was just catching up on all the rest he had missed, and it was part of the healing process. To Gran'ma Ben's great relief, Phoncible had stopped his constant murmuring. She had felt as though she was hearing stuff that she had never been meant to hear; so when he stopped, she was glad.

The Healer said that the Bone would probably come to in another day or so. All Gran'ma had to do was wait...and help the people of the Valley prepare for war...

* * *

_"Phoney Bone?...Can you hear me?"_

In truth, the voice sounded incredibly far away. Opening his eyes just a sliver, Phoney winced as he was assaulted by the bright glare of the sun, which was shining down into...wherever he was. Thankfully, whoever was kneeling beside him was blocking out a good portion of the light; though, not all of it.

"Uuhh...Where am I?"

Jon looked as though he were doing to burst with joy. "Phoney! You're okay! You _can_ hear me!"

Phoney winced as he lifted himself into a sitting position. His back ached terribly; stiff and sore, and Jon's voice sounded far louder than was desirable at that moment. "Yeah, yeah, great, Jon, quit shouting. _Man_-" He pressed a hand to his back painfully. "I feel like I been sleepin' on a rock for a week."

Jon was still all smiles, obviously relieved that the Bone was no longer unconscious. "You have!" he declared almost cheerfully. "You had a fever an' you were delirious."

Phoney paused, finally making eye contact with the young man. Funny...He didn't remember any of that. But, of course, if he had been delirious, he _wouldn't_ remember anything, would he? That worried him. He didn't like not knowing what he had done or said, especially if he hadn't been in his right mind at the time. "What? How long was I out?"

The smile slipped from Jon's face as he recalled the past several days. It hadn't been easy for the young man who, out of most of the people in the Valley, was perhaps the only one that didn't resent the Bone's troublesome nature. "Days! You were out a long time-"

"Heeeey-" Phoney drawled almost suspiciously. He sat up a little straighter, glancing about him; asking a question that had still not been answered. "Where am I?!"

The smile returned to Jonathan Oaks' face. "Look around!" he declared joyfully. "You're in Old Man's Cave! Isn't it exciting? Just like tales of the olden days! Back when Old Man's Cave was the mystical stronghold of the Veni-Yan Warriors!"

Phoney gazed out toward the cavern's domain, taking in the enormous boulders and long, sloping steps carved right out of the cave's stone floor. All about them, tall, sturdily built men in cloaks were tending to their business. Some were talking quietly, while others trained with staffs or swords, the clang of steel or the heavy thunk of wood hitting wood could be heard even from their perch above the mysterious fellows. The Veni-Yan Warriors. Mysterious folk, with hoods forever covering their faces.

Phoney was overcome with a sense of awe, which was rare for him. "Whoa." But then he covered it up with, "You gotta be kiddin' me." The Bone's mind searched through his memory, recognizing the hooded persons. He had seen one before...at the Barrelhaven. Quite a while back, but he remembered. "I thought you didn't like these guys. The townspeople called 'em stickeaters."

Jon looked a little ashamed, but quickly regained his cheerful demeanor. "Oh, that. We thought they were wandering holy men. Monks. Beggars. We didn't know they were the elite royal guardians of the Dreaming! Everybody thought the Veni-Yan disappeared along with the kingdom!"

Phoney held a hand to his aching head, wincing as some other memories tried to resurface. "Kingdom? Royal guards?" In a much smaller voice he added, "Uh, oh. Wait a minute...it's all coming back to me..."

From behind the two, a voice suddenly cooed pleasantly. "Well, look who's feeling better! Good morning, Phoncible!" There was only one person in this wacky Valley that called him that. _Gran'ma Ben._ The kindly woman had walked up from behind their backs, but now leaned forward with a look of genuine relief and amusement. She didn't even blink when Phoney let loose a wild wave of emotional exclamations.

Grabbing Jon by the front of his tattered shirt, Phoney wailed, "Jon, please tell me Gran'ma Ben isn't Queen of the Valley! _PLEASE-!"_

Gran'ma seemed to actually find his reaction funny. This was the Phoncible she was used to. This was the Bone that annoyed her beyond anyone she had ever met, and yet she couldn't have asked for a clearer implication that Phoney's health had returned. He was alive, and gaining strength. And that was all that mattered. "I command you to walk with me," she got in jokingly, as Phoney continued to make a scene.

"Oh, I'm beggin' ya, man..."

Jon wasn't quite sure what to make of Phoney's tirade. But, as far as he knew, the truth was the truth; and he wouldn't lie. "Um. Sorry. She's th' Queen."

"GAH..." Phoney let go of the boy's shirt, sinking in on himself in misery before raising to follow Gran'ma Ben down the stone steps. "My life is gonna suck, isn't it?"

"Now, Phoncible, it's not _that_ bad. I'll tell you what; if you agree to behave yourself..." As the Bone and the Queen began to head away, Jon could no longer hear the conversation. But he didn't mind; it was none of his business anyway. He probably wouldn't understand it.

Getting up from his kneeling position on the stone floor, he stretched. Phoney was certainly an odd creature. All the Bone Cousins were. But he was glad that Phoney had made it. Phoney didn't even know how close he had come to _not_ making it. Jon knew. And Gran'ma knew. And even Wendell and Euclid knew. But Phoney didn't...And maybe that was for the better. The greedy Bone might not be the most honest person; or even the kindest person, but maybe, deep down, he was nore than his outward appearance let on. After all, those feeling he had expressed during his delusions were quite real; they had to have come from somewhere. Maybe they just hadn't come out yet on their own.

Shrugging at these thoughts, Jon turned to go search for the other men. They were training for the upcoming battle against the rat creatures, and Jon wanted to do his part.

THE END

**...**

**Well, there it is. The very beginning and end had some stuff from the comic, just to tie it in with my story. Again, I do not own Bone or any of the characters related to it. I do not write for profit, but for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of others. :) THANKS!**


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